The Last Battle: The Classic History of the Battle for Berlin

by Cornelius Ryan

  The simple truth was that Eisenhower knew almost nothing of the Red Army’s intentions. There was no day-to-day military coordination between Anglo-American and Soviet commanders in the field. There was not even a direct radio link between SHAEF and the Anglo-American military liaison mission in Moscow. All messages between the two fronts were funneled through normal diplomatic channels—a method totally inadequate now because of the speed of events. Although Eisenhower knew the Russians’ approximate strength, he had no idea of their battle order. Apart from occasional data collected from various intelligence sources—most of it of doubtful accuracy*—SHAEF’s chief source of information on Russian moves was the Soviet communiqué broadcast each evening by the BBC.

  One fact, however, was clear: the Red Army had almost reached Berlin. With the Russians so close should the Supreme Commander try for the city at all?

  The problem had many dimensions. The Russians had been on the Oder for more than two months, and with the exception of some local advances and patrol activity they appeared to have come to a full stop. Their lines of supply and communications must be stretched to the utmost, and it hardly seemed likely that they could attack until after the spring thaw. Meanwhile the western armies, moving at astonishing speeds, were driving deeper and deeper into Germany. At places they were averaging better than thirty-five miles per day. The Supreme Commander had no intention of letting up, no matter what Russian plans were. But he was reluctant to enter into a contest with the Russians for Berlin. That might prove not only embarrassing for the loser but—in the event of an unexpected meeting between the onrushing armies—catastrophic for both forces.

  A headlong collision involving the Russians had occurred once before, when they were allied by treaty with the Germans. In 1939, after Hitler’s undeclared blitzkrieg into Poland and the subsequent division of that country between Germany and Russia, Wehrmacht troops advancing east had smashed head on into Red Army forces racing west : no prearranged line of demarcation had been established. The result was a minor battle, with fairly heavy casualties on both sides. A similar clash could occur now, but between the Anglo-Americans and the Russians—and on a much larger scale. It was a nightmarish thought. Wars had been set off by less. Obviously coordination of movement had to be effected with the Russians, and quickly.

  Furthermore, there was one tactical problem that hung over Eisenhower like a thunderhead. In the great map room near his office there was a carefully drawn intelligence chart bearing the legend “Reported National Redoubt.” It showed an area of mountainous territory lying south of Munich and straddling the alpine regions of Bavaria, western Austria and northern Italy. In all, it covered almost twenty thousand square miles. Its heart was Berchtesgaden. On the nearby Obersalzberg—surrounded by peaks seven to nine thousand feet high, each studded with concealed anti-aircraft guns—was Hitler’s mountaintop hideaway, the “Eagle’s Nest.”

  Covering the map’s face was a rash of red marks, each one a military symbol denoting some kind of defense installation. There were food, ammunition, gasoline and chemical warfare dumps; radio and power stations; troop concentration points, barracks and headquarters; zigzagging lines of fortified positions, ranging from pillboxes to massive concrete bunkers; even bombproof underground factories. Each day now, more and more symbols were added to the chart, and though all of them were labeled “unconfirmed,” to SHAEF this formidable mountain defense system was the greatest threat remaining in the European war. The area was sometimes referred to as the Alpenfestung, Alpine Fortress, or the “National Redoubt.” In this craggy citadel, according to intelligence, the Nazis, with Hitler at their head, intended to make a last-ditch, Wagnerian stand. The rugged stronghold was considered almost impregnable and its fanatical defenders might hold out for as long as two years. There was another, even more chilling aspect; specially trained commando-type forces—Goebbels called them “Werewolves”—were expected to sally out from the alpine bastion and create havoc among the occupation armies.

  Did the Alpenfestung really exist? In Washington the military seemed to think so. Information had been accumulating ever since September. 1944, when the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), in a general study of southern Germany, predicted that as the war neared its end the Nazis would probably evacuate certain government departments to Bavaria. Since then, intelligence reports and appreciations had poured in, from the field, from neutral countries, even from sources inside Germany. Most of these evaluations were guarded, but some bordered on the fantastic.

  The Southern Redoubt. This map was drawn up at Supreme Headquarters to show the so-called defenses, which existed only in the minds of Allied intelligence officers. The details of nonexistent ammunition dumps and defense lines were so believable that the map played a large part in the decision not to advance to Berlin.

  On February 12, 1945, the War Department issued a straightfaced counterintelligence paper which said: “Not enough weight is given the many reports of the probable Nazi last stand in the Bavarian Alps…. The Nazi myth which is important when you are dealing with men like Hitler requires a Götterdämmerung. It may be significant that Berchtesgaden itself, which would be the headquarters, is on the site of the tomb of Barbarossa who, in German mythology, is supposed to return from the dead.”* The memo urged that field commanders “down to corps level” be alerted to the danger.

  On February 16, Allied agents in Switzerland sent Washington a bizarre report obtained from neutral military attachés in Berlin: “The Nazis are undoubtedly preparing for a bitter fight from the mountain redoubt…. Strongpoints are connected by underground railroads … several months’ output of the best munitions have been reserved and almost all of Germany’s poison gas supplies. Everybody who participated in the construction of the secret installations will be killed off—including the civilians who happen to remain behind … when the real fighting starts.”

  Although British intelligence agencies and the OSS both issued cautious statements intended to dampen the scare reports, over the next twenty-seven days the specter of the National Redoubt grew. By March 21, the threat had begun to influence tactical thinking. Headquarters of Bradley’s Twelfth Army Group put out a memorandum entitled “Re-Orientation of Strategy” in which it was stated that Allied objectives had changed, rendering “obsolete the plans we brought with us over the beaches.” One of the changes: the significance of Berlin was much diminished. “The metropolitan area can no longer occupy a position of importance,” the report read. “… all indications suggest that the enemy’s political and military directorate is already in the process of displacing to the ‘Redoubt’ in lower Bavaria.”

  To meet the threat, instead of making a thrust in the north, Bradley suggested that his army group split Germany in two by driving through the center. This would “prevent German forces from withdrawing” toward the south and “into the Redoubt.” In addition it would drive the enemy “northwards where they can be rounded up against the shores of the Baltic and North Seas.” Later, suggested the memorandum, Twelfth Army Group forces would pivot south to reduce any remaining resistance in the Alpenfestung.

  The most alarming analysis came on March 25 from the Intelligence Chief of Lieutenant General Patch’s Seventh Army, which was fighting along the southern wing of the front. It foresaw the possible creation in the redoubt of “an elite force, predominantly SS and mountain troops, of between 200,000 and 300,000 men.” Already, the report said, supplies were arriving in the redoubt area at the rate of “three to five very long trains … each week (since 1 Feb. 1945)…. A new type of gun has been reported observed on many of these trains….” There was even mention of an underground aircraft factory “capable of producing … Messerschmitts.”

  Day after day the reports had flooded into SHAEF. No matter how the evidence was analyzed and re-analyzed, the picture remained the same: though the Alpenfestung might be a hoax, the possibility of its existence could not be ignored. ’s own concern was clearly indicated in a March 11 intelligen
ce evaluation on the redoubt: “Theoretically … within this fortress … defended both by nature and the most efficient secret weapons yet invented, the powers that have hitherto guided Germany will survive to organize her resurrection…. The main trend of German defense policy does seem directed primarily to the safeguarding of the Alpine zone…. The evidence indicates that considerable numbers of SS and specially chosen units are being systematically withdrawn to Austria…. It seems reasonably certain that some of the most important ministries and personalities of the Nazi regime are already established in the redoubt area…. Goering, Himmler, Hitler … are said to be in the process of withdrawing to their respective personal mountain strongholds….”

  SHAEF’s Intelligence Chief, British Major General Kenneth W. D. Strong, commented to the Chief of Staff: “The redoubt may not be there, but we have to take steps to prevent it being there.” Bedell Smith agreed. There was, in his opinion, “every reason to believe that the Nazis intend to make their last stand among the crags.”

  As the considered views of the SHAEF staff and U.S. field commanders piled up in Eisenhower’s office, there arrived the most significant message of all. It came from the Supreme Commander’s superior, General Marshall, a man Eisenhower venerated almost above all others.*

  “From the current operations report,” Marshall’s cable read, “it looks like the German defense system in the west may break up. This would permit you to move a considerable number of divisions rapidly eastwards on a broad front. What are your views on … pushing U.S. forces rapidly forward on, say, the Nuremberg-Linz or Karlsruhe-Munich axes? The idea behind this is that … rapid action might prevent the formation of any organized resistance areas. The mountainous country in the south is considered a possibility for one of these.

  “One of the problems which arises with disintegrating German resistance is that of meeting the Russians. What are your ideas on control and coordination to prevent unfortunate instances…? One possibility is an agreed line of demarcation. The arrangements we now have … appear inadequate … steps should be initiated without delay to provide for communication and liaison …”

  Marshall’s carefully worded message finally jelled the Supreme Commander’s plans. Having weighed all the problems, having consulted with his staff, having discussed the situation over the weeks with his old friend and West Point classmate, General Bradley, and, most important, having been acquainted with the views of his superior, Eisenhower now molded his strategy and made his decisions.

  On this chill March afternoon he drafted three cables. The first was historic and unprecedented: it was sent to Moscow with a covering message to the Allied Military Mission. SHAEF’s operations, Eisenhower wired, had now reached a stage “where it is essential I should know the Russians’ plans in order to achieve the most rapid success.” Therefore, he wanted the Mission to “transmit a personal message from me to Marshal Stalin” and do everything possible “to assist in getting a full reply.”

  Never before had the Supreme Commander communicated directly with the Soviet leader, but now the matter was urgent. He had been authorized to deal with the Russians directly on military matters pertaining to coordination, so Eisenhower saw no particular reason to consult beforehand with the Combined Chiefs of Staff nor with the U.S. or British governments. Indeed, not even the Deputy Supreme Commander, Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder, knew about it. Copies were prepared for them, however.

  The Supreme Commander approved the draft of the Stalin cable shortly after three. At 4 P.M., after it had been encoded, Eisenhower’s “Personal Message to Marshal Stalin” was dispatched. In it the General asked the Generalissimo for his plans, and at the same time revealed his own. “My immediate operations,” he said, “are designed to encircle and destroy the enemy defending the Ruhr…. I estimate that this phase … will end late in April or even earlier, and my next task will be to divide the remaining enemy forces by joining hands with your forces…. The best axis on which to effect this junction would be Erfurt-Leipzig-Dresden. I believe … this is the area to which main German Government Departments are being moved. It is along this axis that I propose to make my main effort. In addition, as soon as possible, a secondary advance will be made to effect junction with your forces in the area Regensburg-Linz, thereby preventing the consolidation of German resistance in the Redoubt in southern Germany.

  “Before deciding firmly on my plans, it is most important that they should be coordinated … with yours both as to direction and timing. Could you … tell me your intentions and … how far the proposals outlined … conform to your probable action. If we are to complete the destruction of German armies without delay, I regard it as essential that we coordinate our action and … perfect the liaison between our advancing forces …”

  Next he prepared cables for Marshall and Montgomery. These were dispatched at 7 P.M. and within five minutes of each other. Eisenhower told the U.S. Chief of Staff that he had communicated with Stalin “on the question of where we should aim to link up …” He then pointed out that “my views agree closely with your own, although I think that the Leipzig-Dresden area is of primary importance …” because it offered the “shortest route to present Russian positions” and also would “overrun the one remaining industrial area in Germany to which … the High Command Headquarters and Ministries are reported moving.”

  Regarding Marshall’s fears of a “National Redoubt,” Eisenhower reported that he too was aware of the “importance of forestalling the possibilities of the enemy forming organized resistance areas” and would make “a drive towards Linz and Munich as soon as circumstances allowed.” Eisenhower added that as regards coordination with the Russians he did not think that “we can tie ourselves down to a demarcation line” but would approach them with the suggestion that “when our forces meet, either side will withdraw to its own occupational zone at the request of the opposite side.”

  The third Eisenhower cable of the day, to Montgomery, contained disappointing news. “As soon as you have joined hands with Bradley … [east of the Ruhr] … the Ninth U.S. Army will revert to Bradley’s command,” the Supreme Commander said; “Bradley will be responsible for mopping up … the Ruhr and with the minimum delay will deliver his main thrust on the axis Erfurt-Leipzig-Dresden to join hands with the Russians. …” Montgomery was to head for the Elbe; at that point it might be “desirable for the Ninth Army to revert to your operational control again to facilitate the crossing of that obstacle.” Eisenhower, after reading the draft, added one last line in pencil, “As you say, the situation looks good.”

  The Supreme Commander had refined his plans to this extent: instead of making the major drive across northern Germany as originally considered, he had decided to strike directly across the center of the country. The U.S. Ninth Army had been returned to Bradley, who would now have the major role. He would launch the last offensive, aiming to put his forces in the Dresden area, about one hundred miles south of Berlin.

  Although Eisenhower had accepted part of Marshall’s recommendations, his moves were similar to those suggested by General Bradley’s Twelfth Army Group in its “Re-Orientation of Strategy” memorandum. But, in all three of Eisenhower’s cables on his campaign plans, there was one significant omission: the objective which the Supreme Commander had once referrred to as “clearly the main prize.” There was no mention of Berlin.

  The battered Brandenburg Gate loomed large in the dusk. From his villa nearby, Dr. Joseph Goebbels stared out at the monument through the partly boarded-up windows of his study. Almost contemptuously, Hitler’s gnomelike propaganda chief had turned his back on his visitors—at least so it appeared to the man who was speaking, the Berlin Commandant, Major General Hellmuth Reymann. The General was trying to get a decision on the one matter that he considered of the utmost urgency: the fate of the city’s population on this eve of battle.

  It was the fourth time within a month that Reymann and his Chief of Staff, Colonel Hans Refior, had met with Goebbels. Next to
Hitler, the 47-year-old Goebbels was now the most important man in Berlin. He was not only Reichsminister for Public Enlightenment and Propaganda; he was also Gauleiter of Berlin. As such he was a Reich Defense Commissioner, responsible for all measures regarding the city’s civilian population, the organization and training of Home Guard units and the construction of fortifications. At a time when the absence of any clearly defined division of authority between the military and civilian agencies was creating trouble for soldiers and civil leaders alike, Goebbels had added to the confusion. Though he was totally ignorant of military or municipal matters, he had made it quite clear that he alone was assuming responsibility for defending Berlin. As a result, Reymann found himself in an impossible position. From whom was he to take his orders—from Hitler’s military headquarters or from Goebbels? He was not sure, and no one seemed eager to clarify the command position. Reymann was desperate.

  At each of the previous meetings Reymann had raised the issue of evacuation. At first Goebbels said that it “was out of the question.” Then he informed the General that a scheme did exist, prepared by “higher SS authorities and the police.” Reymann’s Chief of Staff had promptly investigated. Refior had indeed found a plan. “It consists,” he told Reymann, “of a map, scale 1 to 300,000, on which the responsible official, a police captain, has neatly marked evacuation routes running out of Berlin to the west and south with red ink.” There were, he reported, “no sanitation stations, no food points, no transportation for the sick or weak.” He added that, “as far as I can see, the plan calls for evacuees to set out along these roads with only hand luggage, march 20 to 30 kilometers to entraining stations where they will be transported to Thüringen, Sachsen-Anhalt and Mecklenburg. All this is supposed to take place when Goebbels presses a button. But exactly where the rail transport is to come from has not been made clear.”